


The Kitchen Experiment

by BakerStTardis (Sokashi)



Series: Johnlock Advent [2]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokashi/pseuds/BakerStTardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Constructive criticism and beta remarks are not welcome, thank you.</p><p>Day one of the Johnlock Advent unbeta-ed, just a quick thing. Hope someone will find it cute.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Kitchen Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism and beta remarks are not welcome, thank you.
> 
> Day one of the Johnlock Advent unbeta-ed, just a quick thing. Hope someone will find it cute.

"Eat this." 

John jerked his head back from the spoonful of something that was shoved much too close to his mouth. He froze, cut his eyes up at Sherlock and pursed his lips. "Uh, no."

Sherlock made an impatient noise. "I'm not poisoning you. Now eat."

The spoon came towards him again and John resisted the urge to flinch. "Sherlock, if you don't get that away from me I will break your arm."

"No you won't. And I made it for you. Try it."

John narrowed his eyes, aware he was being manipulated. "You were experimenting in the kitchen. Have been all day. You kicked me out of the kitchen saying it wasn't safe and now you want me to eat your experiment." 

Sherlock just blinked at him and he was stupid; John was stupid. So, so stupid because then he was sighing and opening his mouth for Sherlock even as he was wondering what in the world he was doing. Sherlock put the spoon in his mouth briskly and John was forced to take it or possibly choke but at the first burst of flavor on his tongue he froze.

Suddenly he was a boy again and there were christmas carols being sung in the next room and laughter from around the jingling of a shaken christmas tree. He could hear his sister squealing with joy and his cousins running in and out of rooms, down the halls while was in the kitchen smothering in the smells of fresh bread and a holiday ham and the soft flour smell of his grandmother as she leaned close to offer him a bite. "Just for you, my little John. Just a bite."

Then there was a noise and John blinked his eyes open to stare at a Sherlock who looked tense and uncertain in front of him. "That was-" John's voice came out a breath, making him pause and lick his lips where the flavor lingered. "That was bread pudding." He said, which wasn't how he'd started that sentence but it was safer than what he'd intended to say. "I hate bread pudding."

Sherlock nodded and pulled himself upright, arms curled in as if just playing with the spoon but John recognized the action. It was a protective gesture, fiddling with the spoon, an effort to hide his vulnerability, but John could see it. Oh, how he could see it. "Yes. You hate bread pudding except..."

"Except for my grandmother's." John said, his voice soft as he stood. "And none-" His voice broke at the thought of that loss, too long ago to truly ache anymore but there was still a hole there and the loneliness that came with having no family around the holidays. The memories full of a painful nostalgia. 

John cleared his throat awkwardly, dipping his chin as he came around the desk towards Sherlock. "No bread pudding, none, has ever compared to hers. They're-" John didn't finish. Didn't need to. Sherlock knew. Had seen his reaction to bread pudding before. But this- "That was perfect, Sherlock. Absolutely perfect." John stopped in front of Sherlock, close enough to touch. "You spent hours, days, figuring out how to make her bread pudding. How?"

The question came out small and soft, his heart thumping too hard in his chest. He wanted, he needed to see Sherlock's brilliance. To know how he did this wonderful thing in this wonderful moment. Sherlock's arms dropped and he straightened, chin lifting with the confidence he always found when John asked that question. "It was a simple matter of looking at recipes found in the region of your grandmother's birth and extrapolating the likely mixture of ingredients in those compared to your known food preferences-"

John laughed suddenly, interrupting the flow of words with the pure joy bubbling up in him. "My food preferences and the region of my grandmother's birth-" He reached up and caught the back of Sherlock's neck with one palm. Sherlock leaned down, bewildered and flustered. "I love you, too, you madman." John said and kissed him, tasting sugar and whisky and the tea Sherlock had stolen when John had made some an hour ago. It was a brief kiss, sweet and sincere and it felt like relief. Felt like the embodiment of a sigh as he slumped in his chair after a long time away and just-home. This was home and it wasn't even a surprise to find it so.

John pulled back to see Sherlock staring, eyes wide and glittering with that open, vulnerable surprise. "Do you have more of that bread pudding?" 

Sherlock blinked then nodded and John smiled, taking the spoon. "Bring it in here and I'll start a fire. We'll sit and finish it together."


End file.
